"No matter what room he walked
into or who he spoke with, you
would hear laughter," says
Lourdes Blanco, supported by
friends as she grieves beside the
AIDS memorial quilt panel she
designed for Raul Cabello of New
York City. On that October 1988
weekend 8,288 panels blanketed
the Ellipse in Washington, D.C.
(facing page). With more than
13,500 panels today, the quilt
represents only a fraction of
the nearly 100,000 lives lost to
AIDS in the U.S.
BOTHBY KEVINT. GILBERT
But perhaps most worrisome, says Morse, is disruptive envi
ronmental change. "We know already that deforestation and
sweeping agricultural changes can unleash epidemics. Major
outbreaks of Rift Valley fever followed the construction of the
Aswan High Dam-most likely because breeding grounds were
created for mosquitoes, which spread the disease. In Brazil the
introduction of cacao farming coincided with epidemics of Oro
pouche fever-a disease linked to a biting insect that thrives in
discarded hulls."
Will the destruction of tropical rain forests release viruses that
have long remained isolated? Will the sweeping changes pre
dicted because of global warming alter animal habitats in ways
that encourage the spread of new lethal diseases?
(( SOLATED OUTBREAKS of exotic diseases are constantly occur
ring," says Morse. Seven years ago, for instance, a mysteri
ous epidemic of a swiftly fatal hemorrhagic fever killed a
dozen children in rural Brazil. Other isolated outbreaks
have followed. Researchers linked the disease to a common bac
terium long known to cause conjunctivitis, a mild eye infection.
A slight evolutionary mutation, they suspect, has transformed it
into a killer. If the disease
should reach densely popu
lated Sio Paulo, it could prove
disastrous.
"Ebola fever, swine flu,
Marburg fever, Rocio enceph
alitis--these are all deadly dis
eases that have appeared and
then, for no reason, disap
peared again," says Morse.
"Any one of them, given the
right circumstances, could
break out and ignite global
epidemics. That's the lesson
of AIDS."
Such lessons will have little
meaning to a small boy I'll
call Jerome.
Jerome is a Christmas baby,
born December 25, 1985. But
he has had few blessings. He
began life infected with AIDS. Most of his short life will be spent
here on the 17th floor of Harlem Hospital Center. Except for a
few halting words, he has never learned to speak, and probably
never will. His fingers have become clubbed, a sign that his
lungs aren't taking in enough oxygen. His doctor tells me that he
probably won't see another Christmas.
AIDS continues to spread fast among intravenous drug users.
The epidemic of crack cocaine, which encourages prostitution
and indiscriminate sexual behavior, has worsened the situation.
Inadequate medical care in our country's inner cities allows
other sexually transmitted diseases to go untreated, fostering an
environment that may also speed the spread of AIDS. Warns
Phyllis Kanki, a researcher with the Harvard AIDS Institute,
National Geographic, January1991
138